Would you like to hear a story
Of a man who found his glory?
Pull up a chair and take a seat
And hear a story so sweet

It was a just normal day
In his ordinary town
When Ray came down in his sleigh
“Hey, man!” Ray said, “Won’t you help?”
“I don’t know the way!” The man replied
“Well, trust me and I won’t lead you astray.”

So the man hopped on board
But he prayed to the Lord
Hoping that he would return
For he was filled with much concern

So they went for a trip
Deep down in the country
Climbing aboard his airship
Out there jumped a monkey.
“Oh, excuse Reginald
Heaven and Earth can’t separate us.”
“Why, isn’t this so very strange?” The man discussed

And there is no day like today
There is no other way
Don’t let the sky be grey
Don’t let them tell you how to pray
You won’t be betrayed
So close your eyes, and come with me
And we can be what we were meant to be

Course requirements, discipline
Are taught to be a good citizen.
Make sure to get your spot
Be wise, wicked, and don’t get caught.
Don't be betrayed by visions of glory
Be your own author, craft your story
Forget yourself, remember your place
Don’t worry, I never forget a face

My room, such a gloomy room
Rush quickly from your womb to your tomb
Don’t be so awfully blind
You and I are made of the same mind
Fly away and be completely free
But don't you bend your knee to me
I need to find somewhere to make my home
and lay my head down, but I'm doomed to roam

Books stacked on rows and columns
Lay untouched, unread on bottoms
Scribbled black lines on pages
Immutable, perfectly ageless
Pay no mind to things that are so unkind
Don’t you just wish that we could hit rewind?
Stop the bloodshed, say the things left unsaid
Don’t you think we should go and be wed?

Blank expressionless faces
Gaze aimless at moments in stasis
Laughing at nothing at all
We’ve fashioned ourselves a wall
To shut out all that makes us hurt and feel
So they won’t find and stab us in our heel
But we have lost our interconnection
And we have replaced it with isolation.

Sorry for not being around too much to post in here. Not like anyone reads this anyway. This is something I started this weekend. Haven't really got much into it but it's a start. The working title is Sunshine. Here's a little song to accompany the words.

The fan swung around and around in never-ending fast-paced cycles. The chain rattled around as the blades cut through the smokey air. A cigarette burned in an ashtray next to the king-sized bed. The aroma of the cigarette intertwined with the smell of marijuana and spilled alcohol. Lying on the bed was the lanky figure of David - never Dave - Axton, his flower-power perm shagged up and curled. He was fast asleep, practically out cold, when all of a sudden he shot up like a dart. In his eyes was a madcap twinkle, bloodshot and crazy. He ran his hands through his hair, twisting the locks with his right index finger as he let his left hand fall to his satin pants. Biting the inside of his lip, he thought for a moment about nothing at all.

David swung his legs off the bed and slipped his feet into his worn black Chelsea boots. He had not polished them for some time, and there were a few scuffs and thinning of the dark finish. Standing up, he felt his legs wobble and weaken. Regaining his strength, by taking the last drag of the burning cigarette, he sauntered slowly towards his wardrobe. The fan’s whipping cycles beat against his exposed pale skin, relatively hairless when compared to other men of his age. He was barely 23. Opening his clothing cabinet, he examined the contents. Various peacock shirts, adorned with paisley patterns, multi-colored lines and patterns, and extravagant colors greeted him. His eyes fell to the trousers that he was wearing, a burgundy pair of corduroys.

“Wot shall I wear today? Hmm….”

His eyes glided back and forth between the shirts. Pulling out a pink-green-blue paisley patterned shirt by its sleeve, he thought for a moment and let it fall back into the closet.

Step on a crack,
and break your back.
From across the street
bad dog makes his attack.
Sat in an antbed.
Learned to be laughted at.
What’s wrong with mom and dad?
They look sad.

Christmastime and birthday parties.
I ‘member the year I set a trap
for the Easter Bunny.
Didn’t hurt the critter.
Wasn’t that kind of trap.
But, trapping that hunny
set me free.

Used to be,
I never thought about how
the old becomes the new.
Never thought much about it,
till i got a little bit old.
And looking back,
offhand, that is,
Seems the things that changed the most
stayed the same.
I love the best.